


Trespass not on his solitude

by shrift



Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: First Time, Hot Tub, M/M, justice league (animated)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-10
Updated: 2004-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-10 01:03:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/93528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrift/pseuds/shrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You shouldn't be here," Batman says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trespass not on his solitude

**Author's Note:**

> Totally gratuitous porn. This is what happens when I talk to Te. I can tell that you're shocked. Shocked!
> 
> Beta by Nestra. Spoilers for "A Better World". Some very oblique references to Nightwing #86 and #88. Title borrowed from Ralph Waldo Emerson.

It's his turn to be on watch at the Tower today, and as usual, Wally is bored out of his mind. It's just so _slow_ up here when he's all by himself, and he can only speed-check the monitors and news feeds so many times before he reaches a pinnacle of really not caring about Red Sox scores or political refugees or whether there's a cold front moving into the northeast.

Wally speeds out of the control room and stops for a little while on the observation deck. The Tower feels emptier these days, somehow, but Wally knows it's just his imagination. It probably feels empty because he misses John. Or... he misses the dinners, the talks, and the just _hanging out_ that they don't do anymore now that John's dating Hawkgirl. He's lonely, and he can't remember feeling like this since... probably since he stopped working with Dick on a regular basis.

And it's suddenly, achingly obvious that he misses Dick, too, and Wally's, like, a pretty crappy excuse for a best friend, considering that he can't even _remember_ the last time he was in Blüdhaven, and that Babs has been hinting strongly that Wally ought to check up on him. It's not like Nightwing gets invites to the Watchtower, and Wally knows there's a reason for that, but he doesn't think about why that is. It's part of a big box in his mind where he puts things that involve Batman and "figuring out what's going on inside his head," because... yeah, that's just asking for a brain implosion.

He speeds out of the observation deck and makes a mental note to Go Visit Dick. If he's really careful, he might even surprise the crap out of Dick long enough to get in a speed noogie, and it's been _way_ too long since he gave anybody one of those.

It's actually kind of depressing to think about how long it's been, so he doesn't. He runs instead.

Wally's on his third or fourth complete lap around the Tower when the thought occurs to him, and it takes five more laps of dithering before he says, "Aw, hell with it," and stops outside Batman's quarters. And punches in the pass code.

He stands there for -- to _him_, anyway -- a pretty long time, staring open-mouthed at the green light on the door. He never expected that the code would actually _work_. Enough time has passed since they met up with the Justice Lords that -- no, scratch that. Batman should have changed his codes, like, _minutes_ after they got back to the right universe and kicked their evil Lorder asses.

So the million-dollar question remains: why hasn't Batman changed his codes?

Wally stares at the door for another second or two, and then reaches out to turn the handle. Just as he's opening the door, he spares a nanosecond to wonder if Bats has booby-trapped it, and then it's open and he's through, and he isn't exploding into little Wally-bits, so he figures he's golden.

Batman's quarters are big, dark and gloomy, and flipping the light switch doesn't do much to improve things. There's a bank of computers off to one side. Bed with severely anal hospital corners. An arsenal stocked with grapples and batarangs. Absolutely nothing personal _anywhere_, and at least that's exactly what Wally expects to find.

He starts opening up doors and drawers and peeking inside, but he doesn't find much other than a set of tools, some spare uniforms, and a couple of books in a language he doesn't recognize. Wally half-heartedly tries one more door before giving up his snoop-fest, and that's when he hits the jackpot.

"Wow," Wally says reverently, turning around in a circle. "This is the coolest bathroom _ever_."

Because it _is_. It's all shining porcelain and marble and steel, or whatever freaky synthetic substance Batman decided to use when he designed this place, and -- there's a _hot tub_ with little jets and a _sauna_ and a small pool, and...

Batman is totally holding out on the rest of the team. Their other bathrooms aren't even _close_ to being this tricked-out, and all this time, Batman's been hogging the goods. And that's just not fair, because don't they get sore, too?

The on-switch is calling his name. Because really, he can't see this setup and not want to give it a spin. Wally grins and turns on the hot tub, strips out of his uniform, and hops in the bubbling water.

It feels _great_. The water's hot and the little jets are hitting his back and his legs, and relaxing muscles he barely remembers he _has_. Wally closes his eyes and makes some happy noises. He's got a few minutes before he really should check that some giant killer robots aren't attacking planet Earth, and he is definitely gonna enjoy it.

* * *

Once is something he can probably explain away as a bad idea. An accident, or... temporary insanity, maybe. Possession by evil alien dudes, which happens more often than most people realize. Twice is pushing it. Three times makes it a habit, and --

Wally is so far beyond three that there's really no getting around it: he's obsessed with Batman's bathroom.

Not something he ever expected to say. Not in _this_ universe, anyway, and he is not gonna think about what all those other Wallys might be doing right now, because he's in the world's most perfect hot tub, and he's trying to _relax_, not make his spine feel like it's being supercrunched by the heebie-jeebies.

Getting tossed around skyscrapers and thwarting the evil minions of supervillains are exactly the kinds of things hot tubs are made for, and Wally is not the king of restraint. Which is _obvious_, because if he was, he wouldn't be tempting death just by _being_ here in Batman's rooms.

Actually, he doesn't think Bats will kill him for invading his privacy. No, he thinks Bats will make him _wish_ he would die first, and for some reason, he finds that oddly comforting. In a way that doesn't resemble anything comfortable.

Batman isn't comfortable, either, but he's -- Wally trusts him. _Dick_ trusts him.

And besides, it isn't just the best hot tub ever that lures Wally here. Sometimes even he likes to have a place to... disappear, and still be close enough to help his friends whenever they need it. It's -- he _likes_ it in here, and maybe he can't fully explain why, but that sort of thing never stops him.

Thinking things through -- not really his forte. Which is kind of an epic understatement. And it doesn't mean that he's _thoughtless_, just that sometimes it's more important to keep moving than worry about consequences.

Wally leans back, his elbows on the edge of the hot tub, and stretches out to touch his toes to the other side, trying to clear his mind. The hum of the hot tub and the bubbling water finally makes him close his eyes, his hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead and neck. He needs a haircut, but they've been so busy that he keeps forgetting, and he wears his mask so much these days that he isn't sure it matters if he's shaggy. There's nobody at home to complain, and --

Does he hear something?

He freezes for a moment, listening hard, his eyes still shut. He hears the engine, the water, the air coming out of the heating vents... and nothing else. And because he doesn't even hear anyone else _breathing_, he's pretty freaking startled when a hand squeezes the back of his neck.

"What are you doing here?"

The hand is big and gripping him hard, and that grim voice can only belong to one guy. "Batman?"

"Answer the question."

"Um, soakin'?" Wally stalls and opens his eyes. "I was bored and you didn't change your _code_, man, and you've got a _hot tub_, and how not fair is --"

Batman's naked thigh is right next to his head.

Wally stares. Batman's skin is pale, and there's a few places where the skin is paler and almost shiny. Scar tissue. It occurs to him that Batman is crouching on the edge of the hot tub behind him like a vulture, so there must be a big, muscular thigh on the other side of his head, and Wally is suddenly very conscious of the fact that he's totally _naked_ and Batman's hand kind of _hurts_.

And Wally's... getting hard. There are very large amounts of wrong here in this room.

Big surprise.

"You didn't change your code," Wally says. Batman grunts and squeezes a little harder, and before he can stop himself, Wally pushes back into his hand. The pads of Batman's fingers press on the tendons in his neck.

"No."

Plaintively, Wally says, "Why didn't you change your code?"

"I..." Batman says, and then he slides his hand up to anchor his fist in Wally's hair, and jerks his head back.

His scalp stings for a second, and he stares at Batman upside down, at his well-muscled chest, and _fuck_, Batman is still wearing his _cowl_. "I didn't know you were here," Wally says stupidly.

"I gathered that." Batman makes a tiny motion with his head toward the sauna, and Wally thinks that he can't have been in there long, because otherwise his skin would be more flushed and sweaty, and he _really_ can't let his brain go there right now.

Because naked _thighs_ and all that _skin_ and the cape outlining his broad shoulders, and pretty soon Batman's going to know exactly what's going through Wally's head right now. But Wally's kind of paralyzed, because Batman's just _looking_ at him with a kind of concentration Wally isn't used to.

Batman's intense look makes him squirm, and want to run until he can't breathe and his muscles burn, and he can feel the water bubbling against his vibrating skin, tickling the back of his thighs. His brain insists on making assumptions. That Batman hasn't changed the code because he wants Wally to have it. Wants him here. Wants --

And he realizes that's what the look on Batman's face means, and Wally wonders if they came back to the right universe, after all, because this isn't -- he doesn't get to _have_ this, does he?

Up until now, he's pretty sure that, to Batman, he's always been 'Dick's friend' or 'a speedster' or 'loyal and dedicated, if not overly bright'. And there's something about being around Batman that makes him feel so terribly _young_ sometimes.

Wally _gets_ Dick's hero-worship of him. He does. Jay Garrick, Barry Allen -- Wally grew up with his own heroes, too.

But he doesn't know what to do with _this_.

The room feels different with Batman in it. Fuller. Smaller. Hotter.

"You shouldn't be here," Batman says.

Wally nods. "But I am. Here." He doesn't say, 'You know how to keep me out.' He doesn't want to put ideas in Batman's head. Or, at least, ideas like that, even though Wally knows the ideas are already lurking there underneath that black cowl. "Do you want me to leave?"

"Do _you_ want to?" Batman says, his head tilted slightly.

Wally has to remind himself that it's a question and not a threat. "I... like it here."

A muscle jumps along Batman's jaw, and Wally focuses on it, then tilts his head back a little farther to see the patchwork scarring on Batman's chest. The man is big and ripped, and Wally's head is between his thighs, so if he tilts his head back far enough --

Batman's hand closes around his throat, and when he swallows, his Adam's apple pushes against Batman's hard palm. Wally can't do anything but whimper, and the sound has Batman narrowing his eyes underneath his mask. Narrowing his eyes and moving, displaced water slapping at the walls of the hot tub.

Batman looms over Wally's lap, his hard hands on Wally's face and his cape slowly undulating in the hot water. His thumbs stroke over Wally's cheekbones, slowly and so gently that Wally thinks he might be imagining it. The steamy heat and Batman's touch make his eyelids droop, but Wally struggles to keep them open, because he can't quite believe what he's seeing.

And then Batman kisses him, and the world stops. Stops making sense. And that's okay, because it hasn't been making sense for the last while, because Batman's _tongue_ is in his mouth. Stroking. Uses his teeth until Wally's lips are hot and tingling, and Batman's mouth tastes like bolting a glass of scotch. Wally lurches forward and puts his hands on Batman's hips, his palms wet and sliding on the man's skin.

It's -- Wally knows that he's going to have a very hard time not doing this in the future. Wanting to put his hands on Batman's skin and touch it everywhere, because it's warm, firm, and smooth, until it's uneven where he's been hurt. Usually he just gets to see Batman's _jaw_, and now he's more naked than not, and it's making Wally so hard that he wants to climb Batman's body and rub himself over every square inch.

Ten minutes ago, Wally wouldn't have considered this within the realm of possibility, although now it's certainly within the realm of his bad-bad-wrong fantasies when he touches himself in the dark.

"I -- you. Why --" Wally says, and then Batman dips his arm under the water and squeezes Wally's cock. He's suddenly glad he can't finish the sentence, because Batman's jerking him off and making the water slosh over the side of the hot tub, and knowing why this is happening is infinitely less important than not _stopping_. Never stopping. Wally pushes up with his hips, whimpers, and slides his palms over all of Batman's skin that he can reach.

Batman's palm is wide and rough, his thumb brutal on the head of Wally's cock, and Wally _does_ want to know why, but thinking about what the answer will be kind of terrifies him.

"Wally," Batman says, and Wally groans, because his voice feels like that moment right after somebody slams a door. "Tell me you like it."

"I --" He gasps when Batman's teeth scrape his neck. "Oh _god_, yes. I -- please!"

Batman's smile is thin against his cheek. "What do you want?"

"Anything," Wally insists.

"Anything?" Batman repeats, and his tone is so dark and layered that Wally could peel it like an onion for _days_.

"Yes," he says, and it kind of feels like going over a cliff. Falling and screaming down the cliff face, his heart pounding thump-thump-thump, and then Batman pushes one blunt fingertip into Wally's ass. Wally makes a high sound in his throat, and it feels like Batman's trying to absorb it with his teeth and tongue. He moves jerkily, back onto the finger twisting inside him, forward into the hand jacking his cock. The hair in his eyes stings, and he's gasping for air. Water washes over the side of the tub in waves.

Batman stands, and pulls Wally with him, his hands brutal and sure. Wally stumbles out of the tub and tries not to slip in the huge puddles of water dripping from Batman's cape, but it's difficult because the black fabric clings to Batman's muscles like cold cheese on nachos. Except way, _way_ more sexy, and Batman leads him through the door and then pushes him onto the bed, climbing onto the mattress after him like something big, deadly, and _hungry_. Wally shivers, his wet back sticking to the covers, and Batman doesn't stop moving until he's hovering over Wally on all fours.

Water from his cape drips onto Wally's skin.

He rubs his thumb over Wally's nipple, rubs with the bony part on the joint, over and over and over until it hurts just as much as he can't live without it, and then two slick fingers push into Wally's ass, and he just _knows_ he missed a really important hiding place the last time he snooped around Batman's rooms.

Batman's big fingers make him feel split and spread open wide, and Wally fucks himself on them while Batman fucks Wally's mouth with his tongue. He moans and twists, and loses track of time, until the air is chilly on his skin and Batman hooks Wally's knees over his broad shoulders.

Wally gasps when Batman pushes in, the sound wild and high and kind of crazy, because... _because_, and he flings out his arms and pushes _up_, and --

Batman growls against his neck.

"Please," Wally begs, and Batman thrusts in all the way, hard, and it _hurts_. Burns. There's never anything else like it. Warm water drips from Batman's jaw onto his neck, a hard, hot cock in his ass. He's bent double and he can't move, but his body moves anyway, and Batman grunts loudly when he feels it, too. Wally turns his head until his cheek presses against a pillow, the fabric rough on his skin. He vibrates in place, moaning when Batman pushes in hard, again and again, and he closes his teeth over Wally's shoulder.

The pain is sharp and bright, and Wally's teeth click together when Batman thrusts in again. He braces one hand against the headboard and traces the other down Batman's back, arm, slips it underneath the cape. Batman's skin is warm and damp, but Wally almost can't feel it. His body is focused on the clench of his ass and the slick press of his cock against Batman's hard stomach.

"Wally," Batman says, and grabs his cock. Wally almost comes, his skin prickling where Batman isn't touching him, and the covers dragging at his back. A few more strokes of Batman's hand _and_ cock, and Wally _is_ coming, his body sweaty and hot and straining.

Batman just holds on tight, groans quietly, and keeps thrusting in. He rubs his thumb over Wally's bottom lip, rubs it enough that his lip itches, so he sucks Batman's thumb into his mouth, and Wally tastes himself on Batman's skin. He's getting hard again, and it's too soon, but there's nothing he can do about it. Wally feels Batman's other thumb press into his side, and then Batman lifts his hips and fucks him _hard_.

Harder than -- it's so -- it's almost too _much_. Hitting him just right, right _there_, and --

"Wally," Batman says again, his voice rough and dark, and his lips red. "Tell me you need it."

He can't answer. He's breathing too hard, his throat thick with a constant whimper. Sweat trickles down his temples, his sides. His face is hot and his neck is cold, and he wishes like hell that he could see Batman's _eyes_.

"_Tell me_."

"I --" he gasps, "I need it. God, just --"

Batman groans loudly, and the sound hits Wally right where he lives. He groans again, thrusts in _hard_. Wally pants desperately, and he comes with his ankles crossed behind Batman's neck. Batman's body tenses between his legs and his hands squeeze tightly on Wally's body. He makes a soft, broken noise that Wally can barely hear over the buzzing in his ears, and then Batman comes.

Batman slowly relaxes, easing out and a little to the side so that Wally's legs can flop down onto the bed. Wally closes his eyes, and listens to Batman breathe.

Eventually, Wally's gonna have to get up. Get out from underneath the heavy, slick body pressing him into the mattress. Out from underneath the big thumbs rubbing lazily over his skin.

Eventually. And when he does, he won't ask Batman to tell him why, because he likes it here.


End file.
